mind hearing it again.’
Claudine didn’t wake the next morning until nearly eleven,
and she made sure that the very first thing that happened even
before Magaly brought in her breakfast - was a visit
from Louis.
It almost broke her heart to see how solemn-faced he was
when he came in to her. He was used to a Papa who came
and went, but not a Maman - and Maman had been gone for
almost a week, and he had felt how frightened everyone in
the house was; and he had been frightened too, but had
known he must not show it because he was a big boy now,
and a de Lorvoire. All this Claudine read in his face, and as
she lifted him onto the bed and held his small body close to
hers, it was all she could do not to cry.
‘I don’t like it when you go away, Maman,’ he said,
looking her straight in the eye, ‘so please don’t do it any
more.’
‘Oh no, I won’t, my darling, I promise you I won’t,’ she
said, kissing him.
He looked at her consideringly. ‘You’re allowed to make
my face wet this time,’ he said, ‘because you’ve got a bad
bruise and I expect it hurts. But you’re not to do it again.’
When Louis had gone, Francois came in with her
breakfast tray and sat with her while she ate. When she had
finished she leaned back against the pillows and sighed.
‘Feeling better?’ Francois asked, one eyebrow raised.
‘Mm,’ she answered. ‘Real coffee. I’d almost forgotten
what it tasted like. Where on earth did it come from?’
‘It’s some Solange has been saving for a rainy day.’ He
smiled. ‘She’s longing to see you, of course, and so is
Celine. Do you feel strong enough?’
‘Almost!’ she said. ‘And I want to see Monique, too. Is
she here?’
‘Ah, Monique!’ Francois said with a smile. ‘Yes, she’s
been released, and now she’s at Rivau.’
‘Rivau?’ Claudine was mystified. ‘Why Rivau?’
‘Because Rivau,’ Francois said, ‘is where Jack Bingham
is. He’s been moved to safety to an old tower there and
Monique’s keeping house for him.’
‘But…’
‘And before you say any more, it appears that Jack
Bingham’s wife died three years ago, and Bingham himself
is improving every day, and Monique is very happy.’
Claudine was stunned. ‘I feel as if I’ve been away a year,
not a week!’ She thought about it for a moment, then her
smile faded, and her eyes met Francois’. ‘You haven’t told
me anything about yourself yet, cheri,’ she said. ‘What
happened in Vichy? Why did von Liebermann want to see
you?’
Francois’ face was suddenly expressionless. ‘I and four
others,’ he told her, ‘one of whom is Blomberg, are to
oversee the rounding up of Jews from this area for transportation to an internment camp at BeaunelaRolande.’
She groaned inwardly. How much more could he take?
‘But do you have to do it, Francois?’ she said, ‘now that you
know who Halunke is?’
‘If I don’t, von Liebermann will ally himself with Lucien
again.’ He paused, then said quietly, ‘But there may be a
way round it.’
She waited.
‘You remember Bertrand Raffault, at the Manoir de
Pontoise? Where we spent the first night of our honeymoon?’
‘I
remember,’ she said dryly.
‘I found out some time ago that he spends half his time
working with the Resistance in Paris, and the other half in
Poitiers smuggling pilots and agents through to the Free
Zone. The trains carrying the Jews from Touraine will have
to pass near Paris on their way to the internment camp, and
if I can get a message through to Bertrand, he and his group
may be able to ambush them.’
Claudine thought of the Jews she knew, of Gertrude
Reinberg, little Janette and Robert. ‘Isn’t there anything
else we can do to help them?’ she said. ‘Can’t we get a
message through to the British?’
‘They already know. Jews are Jews, Claudine, and the
British, French, Americans, Russians, all of them will save
their own skins before they do anything to help the Jews.
And even then …’
He left the sentence unfinished, and they sat for a long
time, thinking their own thoughts. Then Francois reached
over and took her hand. ‘I have a surprise for you,’ he said
quietly. ‘Would you like to see it?’
‘A surprise?’ Claudine said, intrigued. ‘Yes, of course I’d
love to see it!’
‘I think it’s downstairs. I’ll just go and get it for you.’
A few moments later, she heard footsteps crossing the
sitting-room to her bedroom door. Then the door opened.
‘Papa!’ she cried ‘Papa! What are you doing here? Oh
Papa, if only you knew how pleased I am to see you!’
‘Not half as pleased as I am to see you,’ he answered,
holding her tight. He looked searchingly into her face. ‘Was
it very bad cherie?’
The surprise and joy of seeing him had unsettled her, so
that for a moment she was on the verge of tears. ‘Terrible!’
she said, with a lop-sided grin. Then she kissed him again,
to hide her distress, and said, ‘But you, Papa, how did you
get here?’
‘Celine got me here,’ he said, grinning.
‘Tante Celine?’
‘She managed to get a message to me in London. Used
one of your Resistance operators to do it. It took me a couple
of days to organize things, but I parachuted in the night
before last. Et voila, here I am!’ He saw no point in bothering
her with details of the difficulties he had had to overcome,
and the loud disapproval of his colleagues in Whitehall. ‘So
what’s been happening here?’
‘Oh Papa,’ Claudine sighed, ‘I hardly know where to
begin. But this afternoon, after I’ve seen Solange and Tante
Celine, and we’re all a bit calmer, Francois wants me to sit
down with him and see if we can work out what’s the best
thing for us to do. I’m sure he will want you there too, and
then we can tell you everything, and perhaps you can help.
You are here to help, Papa, aren’t you?’ she said, giving him
another hug. ‘That’s why Tante Celine sent for you, isn’t it?
Or no,’ she looked at him with a sudden glint of mischief in
her eyes, ‘perhaps it was just that she couldn’t stand being
without you any longer!’
She watched delightedly as her father’s normally calm
and dignified face came as near as it could to looking
embarrassed. He cleared his throat loudly, but when she
caught his eye she saw that he was smiling.
‘Oh Papa,’ she said, ‘I’m so glad you’re here!’
‘There’s something I want to ask you,’ he said suddenly.
‘Something personal. May I?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘Are you … you and Francois, are you happy?’
Despite the bruises on her face the smile she gave him
was so radiant that he could almost feel the warmth of it and
felt the secret knot of doubt that had tormented him
since the day he first brought his daughter to Lorvoire,
begin to unravel. It was clear, from what conversation he
had had with his son-in-law over the last twenty-four hours,
that Francois loved Claudine with extraordinary depth and
intensity, but Beavis had wanted to make sure for himself
that his daughter returned that love. Now, there could be no
doubt of it, and though he was not a religious man he found
himself sending up a silent prayer of thanks to God that he
had done the right thing in bringing them together.
Later that afternoon, Claudine, Francois and Beavis sat
down in the library.
Of course, Beavis knew through his Intelligence contacts
a great deal of what was happening now in France, but he
did not know precisely how Francois stood with von
Liebermann and the Abwehr, and the Halunke situation
was entirely new to him. He sat and listened while Francois
filled him in, his face growing steadily more grave.
‘So that’s how things are at the moment,’ Francois
finished. ‘I’m no more use to the Abwehr as a spy, and von
Liebermann knows it. In fact, I suspect he’s got an
execution order on me from Himmler in his pocket now.
But he wants us alive, and available for Halunke. That’s why
he ordered Claudine’s release, and that’s why he’s making
me useful round here, with the Jews. What he really wants is
to see his iniquitous little game with Halunke played out to
the end. He wants to be in at the kill.’
There was a heavy silence in the room. ‘And Halunke
himself?’ Beavis said, not using Lucien’s name in order to
spare Francois’ feelings. ‘Is there any news of him?’
Francois shook his head. ‘He’s out there somewhere,
watching and waiting. Biding his time.’ He turned to
Claudine. ‘I hope you meant it when you said you don’t
intend to disobey me again, cherie, because I want you never
to leave the chateau alone, and preferably not without me. Is
that understood?’
‘Understood,’ she said, giving him a mock salute. But her
face was serious.
‘So the question is,’ Beavis said, ‘what do we do now?’
There was another long silence. Then Francois said,
‘There is one step I’ve taken already. I’ve asked Bertrand
Raffault to see if he can arrange to get Claudine and Louis,
and possibly Solange and Celine too, across to England perhaps
in a boat out of Nantes.’ He looked at Claudine
waiting for her response. She returned the look steadily,
then to his relief, she got up from her chair and planted a
kiss on his forehead. ‘It’s all right, Francois,’ she said, I’m
not going to argue. Only…’ she looked at him’… will you
be coming too?’
Francois put his hand over hers. ‘We’ll talk about that
later, cherie? he said, looking back at her.
‘But in the meantime, what else can we do to protect you?’
Beavis said.
After a long moment, Francois shook his head. ‘I think we
can only go on as we are. Lie low, not attract attention, not
run unnecessary risks - no more Resistance activity,
Claudine, not of any kind.’
‘How soon will it be before Bertrand contacts you?’
Beavis asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Francois answered, ‘but I hope to God it’s
not long.’
Somehow the days of waiting passed. At the chateau, the
family went about their daily tasks mostly in silence, none of
them wanting to burden the others with their inner fears and
anxieties. During the day Francois was at the Chateau
d’Artigny, or at Camp Ruchard where the Jews were held
before being transported to Beaunela-Rolande. He came
home in the evening depressed beyond words by the
gruesome tasks he was required to perform, but his day
didn’t end there, and though Claudine begged and pleaded
with him not to, he went out into the forest in the hope of
finding Lucien. But there was not a sign of him, and the gendarmes, who were hunting him for Estelle’s murder, had drawn a blank too.
Claudine herself spent much of the time trying to fight
the debilitating depression that came over her every time
she thought of Armand. She did everything she could to fill
her days, keeping herself so busy that there wasn’t time to
think, for the guilt was always there, ready to pounce every
time she stopped. She had let him die, a man whose only
crime was to love and protect her. Despite Francois’
assurances she knew she would never forgive herself, never. It didn’t matter that she had been a weapon in Halunke’s Lucien’s - grotesque bid for revenge. There was no excuse,
no forgiveness. Armand was dead. Sometimes she woke in
the night, sweat pouring from her skin and the deathly echo
of gunfire still sounding in her mind. Francois was always
there to hold her until she slept again, but she hated
inflicting her suffering on him when his own was beyond
anything she could begin to imagine.
But worse, perhaps, even than this, was the fear they both
shared: that Lucien would strike again before she, and the
rest of the family, could be got from the country.
One evening, Francois and Claudine were sitting reading in
the family room. It was still early, but Solange and Celine,
and even Beavis, had gone to bed soon after dinner; hard as
they all tried, an evening’s light-hearted conversation was
beyond them. Claudine was idly turning over the pages of a
magazine - a fashion magazine from the old days, before the
war - how strange and silly it seemed now! - when she
thought she heard a knock on the door.
‘Did you hear anything, Francois?’ she said, half-rising
from her chair. ‘I thought…’
Immediately, he was up and out of his chair and striding
across the room. These days, any strange noise, any
unexpected happening was cause for instant alarm, and
sensing the fear in his reaction, she rose too.
Francois flung open the door, and a woman almost fell
into the room - a middle-aged woman, her grey hair in
disorder and her face drawn with anxiety. ‘Oh, monsieur.’
she said, ‘I am so glad I have found you. I have travelled
across country from Montbazon, it has not been easy, and